Let Us Cling Together As The Years Go By
by enigma-kar
Summary: Life after the almost-Apocalypse as told in a series of one-shots. Crowley and Aziraphale are together and have, frankly, never been more domestic. Humorous, romantic fluff will ensue.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **Good Omens is property of literary gods, Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.

_In short - this is my first multi-chapter _Good Omens _fanfiction. I'm trying something different this time, so there won't be an overall arc/plot, but rather a series of unrelated one-shots. Set post-almost-Apocalypse, it's established Crowley/Aziraphale and will involve more domestic situations (as opposed to more Heaven/Hell/Apocalyptic situations). And I'm not going to deny - it's mostly going to be highly OOC, romantic, fluffy and sickly sweet (apologies in advance?). :D_

_Lastly the title comes from the _Queen _song, _Teo Torriatte (Let Us Cling Together). _It a favourite song of mine and seemed to fit. And well, I just couldn't resist (for obvious reasons). This chapter is more just a prologue and I do hope to be updating regularly. Hope you all enjoy and please leave a review. :)_

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><p><strong>Let Us Cling Together As The Years Go By - Prologue <strong>

It had been nearly a month since the almost-Apocalypse. For the better part of that time, Crowley and Aziraphale had remained in close contact. Equal amounts of time had been divided between Aziraphale's bookshop and Crowley's flat. Not that they'd planned it like that - it just happened that way.

"Have your people been in contact yet?" Aziraphale asked, watching from his position on the sofa as Crowley watered his plants.

"Just the once," Crowley replied conversationally, as though they were talking about the weather. "I told them to bugger off," he grinned manically down at one particularly poor looking plant and missed the faint look of surprise that crossed Aziraphale's face.

"And... were you asked to go back?"

Crowley looked up, more at Aziraphale's overly casual tone rather than the actual question. He was silent for a moment before answering. "Yes."

"And did you..? I mean, were you going to go back?" said Aziraphale hesitantly.

"They asked and I told them no," said Crowley simply.

"Okay," said the angel with a slight smile, but his tone still implied uncertainty as though he'd expected a different answer from the demon.

Crowley noticed the tone at once and he fixed Aziraphale with a hard stare, placing his plant mister down and walking away from it. "Why?" He demanded, unable to stop the worry that suddenly crept into him. "Were _you_ going planning on going back? Have you..? Did..?" The demon didn't exactly have a heartbeat or breath, but he felt that if he did they both would have increased in panic.

"Oh, no no!" cried Aziraphale. And he rushed forward to grasp Crowley's arm. "I was just... wondering."

"Wondering?" Crowley repeated, only a little of his panic ebbing away. "Why would you even wonder, angel?"

Aziraphale blushed and looked away. "Well... if you ever wanted to go back, then I suppose I would too."

"So your people haven't been in touch yet," Crowley guessed instantly, passing over the pleasurable throb of belonging he felt at Aziraphale's statement. Under his breath he muttered incredulously, "and they're usually so simultaneous with these things."

Chuckling weakly, Aziraphale looked back at the demon. "Don't worry, dear. I was just... being silly... shouldn't have said anything..."

"No," disagreed Crowley. "I, I only chose to stay here in the hope that you would be staying too. My post-Apocalyptic plans were somewhat lacking, as you'd imagine and we never discussed anything." He shrugged. "I only hoped."

"Me too," said Aziraphale quietly. "I just wanted to check first."

"Aziraphale, you should know, Earth has been more of a home to me than Hell ever was." The demon's voice was honest and firm. "So I'm staying if you are, angel."

"Then I'm staying."

"Good," said Crowley, now grinning. "You can tell your people to bugger off when they arrive to make contact."

"I don't think I'll use that exact phrase," Aziraphale said with a return smile. "But something to that effect, yes."

Crowley bit back a nasty jab about the politeness of angels. "You shouldn't have worried," he said instead. "I've spent too much pre-Apocalyptic time getting to know you for it all to go to waste now. Besides," he blushed uncharacteristically, "I'd miss you if you ever left."

The angel beamed at him, disregarding any embarrassment. "The feeling is mutual, my dear."

"How about a drink?" Crowley suggested, not wanting to get caught up in any endearingly soft conversations. He didn't wait for Aziraphale to reply before offering him a glass of red wine which had suddenly appeared.

The angel took it appreciatively and held it up. "To life after the Apocalypse."

Crowley clinked his own glass against the other. "To life together."

_To be continued..._


	2. Of Traffic Signals and Incorrigibility

**Disclaimer: **Anything you recognise isn't mine.

_Well, I wasn't lying when I said it would be OOC and domestic with lots of fluff and sickly sweet romance. :P And considering this chapter, I should add a warning for insane randomness. Thank you to everyone who reviewed/favourited/alerted! I hope you enjoy this chapter. And if you have any ideas as to what other domestic things Aziraphale and Crowley can get up to, don't hesitate to let me know. :) _

_Lastly: Remember: Reviews = love. :)_

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><p><strong><span>Let Us Cling Together As The Years Go By - Of Traffic Signals and Incorrigibility<span>**

"My point exactly," Crowley was saying, hands thrust deep into his pockets as he crossed the road. "You can't expect dolphins to-" He stopped abruptly. If you could have seen his eyes behind the dark sunglasses, you would have seen them narrow in mild confusion. Still in the middle of the street (and completely disregarding the "hazard" of cars), he turned to his left, then his right, and then spun full circle as he released his angelic companion was no longer beside him. "Aziraphale?"

The angel in question had not followed him onto the road, but remained on the other side. He was smiling slightly, mostly out of fond amusement as he watched Crowley's confusion and resulting spin. "Crowley," he called, putting the demon out of his misery.

Eyes narrowing further, Crowley turned and stalked back to the other side of the road. "What are you doing, angel?" He demanded. "Are you coming or not?"

"The pedestrian crossing light was flashing red," said Aziraphale, as though his explained everything.

"Pardon?" Aziraphale pointed to the traffic signals and Crowley whipped his head around to look. The red, stationary man symbol shone back. "And your point is?" He turned back to Aziraphale.

"When the pedestrian light flashes red, you should only continue crossing if you have already entered the intersection. You should not _begin _to cross. It's safe to cross again when it goes green," said the angel. His tone suggested he was explaining the concept to a child. Crowley, however, was not a child.

"Oh for Go-, Sa-, for _someone's _sake!" exclaimed Crowley. "You are an _angel_!"

"So I should disregard traffic signals?" Aziraphale blinked.

"There were no cars coming," Crowley protested. "It was entirely safe to cross."

"I can't set a poor example to others around me," Aziraphale whispered, wary of the public around them. "It's against my nature."

"Of course."

"And it would have been against the law."

The demon groaned, wondering why he ever had the nerve to befriend an angel. "So?" He said weakly.

"I... could have crossed, but I would have always known, deep down, that I was breaking the law."

"You're so... so..." Crowley groaned in frustration again.

"Angelic? Righteous?"

"Incorrigible," said Crowley and Aziraphale didn't disagree.

"Light's green," he said instead, his voice overly calm, and began to cross. It took a moment for Crowley to rush to catch up with him.

"I've upset you, haven't I?" he asked softly, looping his arm through the angel's.

Aziraphale shot him a startled look, but continued to walk, crossing the road in safety. "Of course not, dear. You could never!"

"I'm sorry," Crowley apologised anyway, a cheeky smile now pulling at his lips. "Sometimes I forget you're not a demon; you're so devilishly good in bed."

"Crowley!"

The demon chuckled at Aziraphale's embarrassed outcry and noted (once again) how adorable the angel looked when he blushed. "I don't lie about these things, angel," he said matter-of-factly.

Face still bright red, Aziraphale gave a low growl of apparent annoyance. However he also slid his arm around Crowley's waist and gave it a loving squeeze. And Crowley's grin widened - he knew Aziraphale was actually quite pleased with the compliment.

_To be continued... when Crowley and Aziraphale go grocery shopping..._


	3. Of Home Cooking and Groceries

**Disclaimer: **Still not mine, I'm afraid.

_More fluffy domesticism in this chapter (although my knowledge of English supermarkets is not great, so I apologies in advance for any mistake I may have made). And I must admit, I am enjoying writing these a lot. :D Hope you're all enjoying reading them, too. And please don't hesitate to leave a review. _

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><p><strong><span>Let Us Cling Together As The Years Go By - Of Home Cooking and Groceries<span>**

"This is ridiculous," pouted Crowley. He was hunched over and stalking moodily beside Aziraphale, who was pushing a shopping trolley with as much skill and grace as one can muster when pushing a shopping trolley. "Not to mention horridly domestic."

The angel appeared to ignore him as he paused to examine some potatoes in the fresh vegetable section. "Kipfler or Desiree?" he asked. Crowley grunted.

"What's the matter?" the angel asked, finally looking up at him.

"We're in a supermarket."

"Which your people were responsible for creating, I believe," said Aziraphale.

"And people keep staring at me," hissed Crowley, ignore the angel. "It's not illegal to wear sunglasses indoors is it?" He glared at a small child who was reaching up to take some onions next to them. She gave a little sob of horror, abandoned her task and rushed back to her mother to clutch her hand tightly. Crowley watched her go with a little hiss of delight.

"Stop being so mean," scolded Aziraphale lightly. The demon turned away and muttered something about it 'being in his nature'. "Dare I mention," Aziraphale continued, "that you were the one who suggested we have a home cooked meal tonight, instead of going out again?"

"A statement which I am coming to regret."

"Dearest, I know you enjoy home cooking," said Aziraphale.

"Yes," snapped Crowley. "But, I don't see why we have to actually visit a supermarket. One of the perks of being an angel does include being able to make things appear at will. Like groceries for example. Or entire home cooked meals, perhaps."

"As I recall, another 'perk' includes the ability to disappear and reappear at will and yet you still insist on driving your Bentley," Aziraphale replied evenly. "You've always said that it's 'all part of the experience.'"

Crowley looked scandalised at his Bentley being brought into the argument. "I do believe I was referring to an _enjoyable _experience. Grocery shopping does not fall into that category."

Aziraphale gave him a somewhat pitying and disappointed look. "You can wait outside, if you want."

"No, it's fine," Crowley sighed, admitting defeat. "I'm here now." Aziraphale smiled widely at him.

"That's the spirit, my dear."

"You do realise, my kitchen is entirely stocked already," Crowley pointed out.

"All part of the experience," said Aziraphale. "Besides, it will all be worth it in the end."

"I have no doubt," Crowley finally returned the smile, albeit weakly. "So what can I do to make this go quicker?"

Still beaming, Aziraphale handed him a list (Crowley looked horrified to see that a list had actually been made!). "These will be in the aisles and everything is labelled clearly. There are store maps available at the checkouts if you need one."

Crowley looked even more horrified at the suggestion he use a map. "I'll be fine," he said, beginning to walk away.

Aziraphale called him back. "Oh and Crowley: no cheating!" They shared a meaningful look for a moment, before the demon turned and headed towards the aisles. Aziraphale turned back to the potatoes, a fond smile gracing his lips.

"Don't you worry, love," an elderly lady said from beside the angel. "My husband was exactly the same his first time shopping."

"Oh, I wasn't worrying," said Aziraphale with a smile. "He's always been like that."

"And you wouldn't want it any other way," the older woman said knowingly.

"Yes," he said almost dreamily.

The older lady smiled as the angel reminisced and then gently placed a hand on his forearm to bring him out of his reverie. "You must be very lucky to have each other," she said warmly.

"Believe me, madam," Aziraphale replied softly. "I know."

_To be continued... when Aziraphale wants to buy a car..._


	4. Of Ferraris and Volkswagens

**Disclaimer: **Does it need saying..? Really? Oh, okay then... Any characters you recognise below do not belong to me.

_Firstly - credit where credit's due - the idea of this was given to me by _**woelfin-akhuna. **_Thank you for this! Really. I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope it lives up to any expectations you had. :) Secondly__ - I want to shout out a thanks to Anonymous reviewer, _**Meep goes the sock. **_I hope this is a quick enough update for you. _

_Lastly - I hope everyone reading enjoys this chapter and I hope to be back with more soon. Reviews are love. :)_

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><p><strong><span>Let Us Cling Together As The Years Go By - Of Ferraris and Volkswagens<span>**

"I'd like to get my own car," Aziraphale announced to Crowley one lazy afternoon at the bookshop. The demon glanced up from the book he was reading and fixed Aziraphale with an inscrutable stare.

"Why?"

Blushing, the angel stuttered. "Well, I... I just thought... I mean, it would be convenient. And you never have let me drive your Bentley."

"Only because I know you'd drive it slowly," Crowley said under his breath. He was of the opinion that a car like the Bentley was made to be driven fast.

"Sorry dear?"

"What did you have in mind?" asked Crowley.

"I don't know," said Aziraphale truthfully.

Crowley snapped his book shut, now grinning at the idea of going car hunting with Aziraphale. "I can highly recommend the latest Ferrari. The 458 Italia. Very stylish, especially in red."

"Oh? Is that some sort of fancy saloon? I don't think I've heard of it."

It was very hard for Crowley to refrain from rolling his eyes. While he hadn't expected the angel's knowledge of cars to be great, he didn't think it'd be quite this terrible. "Come on, angel," he said, reaching out to take Aziraphale's hand. "Field trip."

In an impossibly short time later, they were inside the Ferrari dealership in London. Aziraphale walked around the 458 Italia one more time, as Crowley watched in amused fascination. "It's a bit... flash," the angel said, uncertainly.

"It's a Ferrari," said Crowley. Then, remembering that wouldn't mean much to Aziraphale, he added. "That's the point. It's meant to be flash... and fast."

Frowning, the angel came to a halt beside Crowley. "I'm sorry dear, but I really don't think it's what I'm looking for."

Crowley looked thoroughly disappointed. Not giving up hope, however, he listed a number of other highly expensive cars in the same league as the Ferrari.

"Those are like this one, aren't they?" Aziraphale guessed, gesturing to the Ferrari.

"Yes," Crowley said sheepishly. "But they really are the only cars worth having these days. And the Ferrari is the best of them."

"What about your Bentley?"

"She's in a league of her own."

Aziraphale didn't argue the point; the Bentley meant the world to Crowley. And quite rightly. For all they knew, the Apocalypse may yet have come to pass if it hadn't been for that car. Besides, Aziraphale was quite sure that the last person to insult the Bentley in front of Crowley had suffered a series of great misfortunes.

Turning to Crowley, as he was suddenly struck with a thought, Aziraphale said, "As much as I appreciate your help, I think this is something I have to do for myself."

The demon inwardly shuddered at the thought of letting Aziraphale loose on the car market. But he, too, had been thinking of his Bentley and nodded. "I agree."

And so Crowley left Aziraphale at the Ferrari dealership and returned to the bookshop. The angel promised to be back by the end of the day.

~ *XX* ~

"Well, I've got a car," Aziraphale said cheerfully when he arrived back.

"What is it?"

"I expect you'll want to see it," said the angel, leading the way back out of the bookshop again. "I do hope you're not too disappointed, because it's not a Ferrari or a Martin Aston."

"Aston Martin."

Aziraphale appeared not to hear Crowley's correction. "But I bought it off this little old lady. She was very kind and offered me such a good price for it. And it looked like she needed the money."

"You paid for it?"

"Yes," said Aziraphale in a tone which was clearly meant to remind the demon that you should actually pay for cars.

"What is it?" repeated Crowley, ignoring the jibe and now feeling both apprehensive and excited. Aziraphale opened the door and stepped aside to allow the demon to see the car parked on the sidewalk. Three things were obvious upon first sight of the car:

1. It was yellow. At least, it had once been yellow.

2. It was also very old, rusting in some places and had taken a beating at some stage. And lastly;

3. It was very distinctly...

"A VOLKSWAGEN BEETLE!" Crowley's incredulous cry echoed down the street.

"Yes, that's it," said Aziraphale beaming. "Why? Don't you like it?" His face fell slightly.

"Like? _Like?_ It's..." Crowley was momentarily lost for words. He turned to Aziraphale, torn between amusement and embarrassment. "How could you...? Why? Why did you buy it?"

Aziraphale looked worried, as though he'd done the wrong thing. "I just did. The lady who owned it was so lovely and kind. She offered me tea. And I..." He was cut off as Crowley began to laugh. "I don't understand," he said weakly.

Smiling fondly at the angel, Crowley wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close. "Don't ever change, my dear Aziraphale. Don't ever change."

_To be continued... when Aziraphale sleeps in cute pyjamas..._


	5. Of Pyjamas and Sleeping Habits

**Disclaimer: **The characters do not belong to me. *sad face*

_Just a short chapter this time. But don't think that means it will be less cute and sickly sweet. Because it's not. :D I hope you're all still enjoying these as much as I am enjoying writing them. And I hope to update in a few days as per usual. Reviews are love. :)_

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><p><strong><span>Let Us Cling Together As The Years Go By - Of Pyjamas and Sleeping Habits<span>**

Technically they didn't need to sleep, but Crowley often encouraged it. This was mostly because he enjoyed watching Aziraphale sleep. Not in a 'creepy, stalker vampire' way, but in an 'absolutely adorable and endearing' way. Aziraphale knew full well what was going on, but allowed Crowley these indulging moments. It was always lovely to feel admired and he didn't much mind the sleep.

"What time is it?" said the angel blearily, as he woke one day. They were in Crowley's apartment, which was conveniently equipped with a very large bed.

"Time for you to go back to sleep, so I can admire you for longer," Crowley replied easily.

Aziraphale peeked out of the duvet and opened an eye to look at the demon propped up beside him. "Crowley," he said warningly.

"Yes, angel?" Crowley was the picture of innocence, which was quite a feat in many ways.

"Did you get any sleep?"

"I had better things to do," he grinned. "Besides, it's not necessary; at least not at this point in time."

Aziraphale sighed and closed his eyes again, snuggling back into the covers. He gave the demon another half-hour of adoration, before waking again. This time he shook the sleepy feeling off as he might drunkenness. "Finished?" he asked sardonically.

"I suspect I'll get by," replied Crowley. Then as an afterthought he added, "as long as you keep wearing those pyjamas."

They both looked down at the pyjamas Aziraphale was wearing (it should be noted that apart from the bed sheets, Crowley wasn't wearing anything. He never did when sleeping. He didn't see the point of wearing clothes to bed when he knew they'd just be taken off again anyway). The angel looked back to Crowley and gave him a narrow-eyed look. "My dear boy, these pyjamas have ducks on them."

"Precisely. No one can wear duck pyjamas as well as you can. It's adorable."

"You know you're quite... endearing for a demon," said Aziraphale with a yawn.

"Nrgh."

Aziraphale smiled at that. He didn't need Crowley's agreement. He already knew. The matter of the pyjamas, for example. Sometime after he began sleeping regularly at Crowley's place, the wardrobe had suddenly filled with many different clothes (because unlike Crowley, Aziraphale preferred to remain dignified and clothed whenever possible). The most different of these were several sets of ridiculous pyjamas. The sort that were printed with pictures of ducks and rabbits and kittens.

Though Crowley never admitted to it, Aziraphale highly suspected he was responsible for this appearance. Not that Aziraphale really minded - the pyjamas _were_ comfortable. Point was that, yes, the demon was rather endearing even if he would continue to deny it for ages to comes.

"Don't even try to deny it, dear," smiled the angel, leaning over to press a light kiss on his cheek.

Crowley blinked his yellow eyes and huffed in clear disagreement, but as Aziraphale continued to smile at him, his face softened. Gently, he brought the angel's face closer to his and brought their lips together.

_To be continued... when it rains in St James' park..._


	6. Of Tempting and Ducks

**Disclaimer: **Everything you recognise below, does not belong to me.

_If I'm honest, I'm not completely happy with this chapter... But, I'm posting it anyway, in the hope that someone else will enjoy it. :) So please... enjoy! And remember: reviews are love. :D_

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><p><strong>Let Us Cling Together As The Years Go By - Of Tempting and Ducks<strong>

It was a somewhat dreary day in London; not that there are many other kinds of days in London. Crowley and Aziraphale sat on a bench in St. James' Park, watching the world go by (post-apocalypse, they had the time for these more simple pastimes). "Mine," said Crowley, grinning as a nondescript man walked by them.

"And how did you tempt him?" Aziraphale said, in a tone which suggested he had asked the same question many times before. In fact, he had.

"Well I didn't tempt him _personally_," the demon clarified. He turned to the angel. "Have to save my tempting for others now."

Aziraphale fought very hard to not blush. "You know it doesn't take much to tempt me," he muttered.

Crowley smiled at Aziraphale as though this was the most delightful thing he'd ever heard. "Anyway," he said, reluctantly looking away and back to the nondescript man. "He's certainly been corrupted. My money's on Lust. Always a classic, these days."

"I'll take your word on it," Aziraphale said with a slight smile.

"Oh and mine again." They watched a middle aged women cross in front of them.

This went on for a while.

Until, "I do believe this one's mine," said Aziraphale. He smiled kindly at a young man nearby, who was hunching over in the light rain that was now falling. Crowley didn't comment, but narrowed his hidden eyes and allowed a hiss to escape his lips. Aziraphale knew he was itching to tempt him into something wicked. "Don't be like that, dear," said the angel, who was enjoying this considerably more now. "Some of them have to be mine."

"Unfortunately."

"That was nasty," said Aziraphale, disapprovingly. Crowley shot him a sheepish, apologetic look that was so genuine, Aziraphale was forced to forgive him. They sat in silence for a while, gazing out over the park; watching the light rain fall and the people rushing against it.

"We should visit the ducks again," Aziraphale said, looking over to where the pond was just visible.

"They've probably missed us," said Crowley. It was hard to tell if he was being serious or not. On one hand, they were _ducks. _But on the other, it was unwise to assume that the intelligence of a St James' Park duck was the same as your average duck.

Neither of them moved, however, or made any further indication of leaving the bench. The rain began to fall more heavily now and Aziraphale opened an umbrella, which he appeared to have taken out of his coat pocket.

"You do realise we don't need an umbrella to stay dry in the rain," Crowley pointed out. But as he said it, he shuffled even closer to the angel so they'd both be sufficiently covered.

"I know," Aziraphale said, smilingly. "But it seemed appropriate."

"Any excuse to get cosier," smirked Crowley, nudging the angel fondly.

Aziraphale blushed, but turned to whisper into the demon's ear. "I didn't realise I needed an excuse."

"You know, I think the ducks are going to have to wait," Crowley said. "I have some tempting to do."

_To be continued... when Crowley and Aziraphale go to the beach... _


	7. Of Swimwear and Suntans

**Disclaimer: **Crowley and Aziraphale do not belong to me.

_Firstly, a little housekeeping: Thank you once again to _**woelfin-akhuna**_ for this idea. :) As before, I had a lot of fun writing this, so I hope you enjoy. _

_I should add, however, that I've never actually been to_ _Nice_ _or the south of France. The information I have has just come from that ol' reliable source, Wikipedia. If any of it is wrong, please don't hesitate to let me know. Furthermore, virtual bonus points will be awarded for those who pick up on the HHGTTG reference. I never can resist putting them in my fanfiction! :P _

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><p><strong>Let Us Cling Together As The Years Go By - Of Swimwear and Suntans<strong>

It had been a mutual decision to go to the beach. Aziraphale was always up for a sunny, cheerful environment and Crowley was just glad to finally have a setting in which his sunglasses wouldn't be too frowned upon. In light of there being no suitable beaches in England (Aziraphale secretly blamed Crowley for this), they travelled to Nice. And for an angel and a demon, the south of France was never too far away.

"Need some help in there, angel?" said Crowley teasingly, knocking on the stall in which the angel was getting changed into his swimming attire.

"Thank you, dear, but no... I'm fine..." There was a bang, followed by half a swear word. Crowley let out a hiss of amusement.

"Well, if you are sure."

"Yes," said Aziraphale tightly. Crowley grinned and leant against the stall in silence. A moment later the door opened and Aziraphale stepped out, muttering in mild disgust that there was never enough room in bathroom stalls for such tasks as manoeuvring oneself into swimwear. Crowley was fully intent on replying conversationally, but one look at what the angel was wearing and he barked out a laugh.

"Why," he began with a deep steadying breath. "Why is it always the 1950's?"

Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably in his Hawaiian shirt and looked down at his swimwear. Yes, the outfit was from the 1950's, but that was stylish. Just like tartan was stylish. Besides, the blue flowers on his shirt and the blue and white stripes on his swim shorts complemented his eyes nicely. He glanced over at Crowley, who was wearing a pair of stylish black swim shorts. "What's wrong with the 1950's?"

"Where do you want me to begin?"

~ *XX* ~

The sun was high and beaming down a comfortable 28 degrees Celcius when they made their way down to the pebbly waterside. Choosing a vacant spot, Aziraphale conscientiously laid out a towel and sat on it. Crowley watched with a small frown. "I knew there was something I'd forgotten."

"You should always know where your towel is," said Aziraphale sensibly and Crowley scowled. A second later a red towel appeared beside Aziraphale's. The demon grinned and flopped down, leaning comfortably back on his elbows.

"Sun cream?" asked Aziraphale, eyeing Crowley's bare chest.

Crowley turned and raised an eyebrow at the angel, incredulous that he was even asking. "Really, angel?"

"Uh..."

"Trust me when I say that there are hotter places than the south of France."Aziraphale looked vaguely apologetic, but Crowley didn't seem to mind. He was starting to grin. "I'd be more than willing to rub a little sun lotion into your back, though."

"Is that a euphemism?" said Aziraphale suspiciously.

"Can be..." The angel fixed him with a reproachful look. "Oh alright, I mean it in the sense of sun protection."

"Maybe later," said Aziraphale. He was suddenly aware of the many people around them and decided that it wasn't the best idea to have Crowley rubbing sun lotion into his back in such a public place. The potential outcomes of such a situation, Aziraphale reasoned, had a high embarrassment factor.

Crowley shrugged, as if to say 'your loss'. But then he studied the angel closer. "Probably for the best," he said. "You need to work on your tan."

"What tan?"

"I rest my case."

~ *XX* ~

They had been contemplating a more permanent move to Nice ("Sure the weather is wonderful, but it's _France_!"), when a shadow fell on them. Aziraphale and Crowley looked up. "Nice shirt," a slim blonde woman said to Aziraphale in accented English (she appeared not to notice Crowley). There was no denying her attractiveness; she was wearing a rather revealing bikini.

"Thank you." The angel smiled kindly at her, blushing. Crowley scowled.

"You're welcome," she said, smiling back at him. With a wink she left, swaying her hips in what Aziraphale presumed was meant to be an appealing manner.

The angel turned to Crowley (who was glaring after the woman), and tried in vain not to look smug. "Is that jealousy, dear?"

"No."

Aziraphale smiled fondly. "You shouldn't worry; you know all too well she wasn't my type. Besides, you're rather cute when you get jealous."

"Nrgh!" But Crowley grinned in spite himself.

_To be continued... _


	8. Of Mobile Phones

**Disclaimer: **Good Omens isn't mine. :(

_I apologise for the late updating in this. I started uni again this week and it's so hectic already. On the plus side, I have heaps of new ideas and I hope to update again soon._

_Hope you all enjoy this, even if it is horridly OOC and so fluffy you might die. I certainly enjoyed writing it. And please leave a review. :) _

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><p><strong><span>Let Us Cling Together As The Years Go By - Of Mobile Phones<span>**

The bell on the door at Aziraphale book shop jingled as the door was opened and closed again. The angel poked his head out from the back room, secretly praying it wasn't a customer who had come to take his books from him. It wasn't and Aziraphale let out a small sigh as Crowley swaggered toward him.

"Honey I'm home," said Crowley. He grinned and jangled a package up for Aziraphale to see. "Bought something for you, angel."

"Oh? What is it?"

"You'll see," Crowley said and held it out for Aziraphale to take, who did so, slightly cautiously.

"It's already been opened."

"I had to make a few adjustments first," Crowley said.

"I dread to think," muttered Aziraphale, slowly opening the package. He looked up at Crowley a moment later. "A phone?"

"A mobile phone," Crowley corrected with a grin.

"Why would I need one of these?" Frowning, Aziraphale took the phone out of its case and examined it, turning it over in his soft hands.

"I've been told they're the latest thing," said Crowley, not answering the angel's question. "I got one too." He pulled an identical phone out of his jacket pocket with a grin.

Aziraphale looked up at him, still frowning. "But why? I understand the concept, but-" He broke off as, to his surprise, Crowley looked at his feet and blushed. "My dear?"

"It's so we can..." there was a pause. "...be in touch," Crowley finished lamely, looking up. "Never be unreachable... If we're ever apart..."

"Oh, Crowley!"

"No, no, don't go all," he waved his hand vaguely to encompass the angel. "you know.. on me."

Aziraphale nodded and while he didn't say anything more, he found it very hard not to beam delightedly at the demon. "So how does it work?"

Crowley grasped at the new subject as though it was the last thing between him and a 100 foot fall. "Here." He plucked the phone from Aziraphale's hands and was off, explaining how to turn it on and what the different buttons did and the special features ("It's even got a camera inside it!"). Crowley himself had only been shown this a few hours previously by the phone salesman, but he was a fast learner and Aziraphale could only nod and listen in fascination at his explanations.

"What a wonderful device," said Aziraphale when Crowley finally paused for breath and handed the phone back. The only other piece of technological equipment Aziraphale owned was the old computer he did his accounts on. In comparison, the mobile seemed impossibly futuristic. "So what 'adjustments' did you make?"

"I just added my own number into your contacts list."

"I see," said Aziraphale, bringing up the list. Crowley's contact number was indeed there, but Aziraphale had to blink a few times to ensure he was reading it correctly. "My dear boy, was it really necessary to put your name as... as... 'A.J. Crowley, Sex Beast'?"

Crowley, grinned and gave a small shrug. "It seemed to fit. You're in my phone as 'Aziraphale, Divine Angel of Loving'." He flicked his tongue suggestively.

"Please tell me you are joking," said Aziraphale wearily.

"I am," said Crowley seriously, stepping forward to take Aziraphale in his arms. "Your number's just under 'Angel'." He stalled for a second or two, then swallowed thickly. "Because you are, you know. My angel."

And unable to think of a coherent reply, Aziraphale simply kissed him.

_To be continued..._


	9. Of Dates and Queen Lyrics

**Disclaimer: **Anything you recognise below doesn't belong to me.

_Wow - I think I'm scaring myself with the level of fluffy/sickly sweet stuff I can write (Exhibit A, below). Whether this is a good thing or not, I'm undecided. __The _Queen _song in this (_Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy)_ has always been one of my favourites and only recently did I realise how much it suited Crowley and Aziraphale. Go figure!_

_Lastly, thanks again to everyone who has reviewed or favourited or subscribed this so far. I really appreciate it and I hope you are still enjoying reading as much as I am writing. :) And, if you've got the time, please leave a review. I love the feedback._

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><p><strong>Let Us Cling Together As The Years Go By - Of Dates and Queen Lyrics<strong>

They were at the Ritz. Their usual table was conveniently vacant and there was a new menu to try. The new menu was the main reason for the visit. At least, that's what they told themselves. Neither were prepared to admit that their dinners at the Ritz had becomes 'dates'. They were still under the impression that, as an angel and demon, they were above such things. This was a false impression.

As usual, they didn't order. However meals arrived for them within ten minutes (they didn't seemed to realise that neither of their meals were off the new menu).

"Wine, sir?" A waiter appeared and showed them a bottle. Aziraphale looked questioningly at Crowley.

"I will pay the bill, you taste the wine," Crowley quoted in sing-song.

"You're quoting _Queen _lyrics at me?" said Aziraphale, raising a perfectly curved eyebrow at the demon. Crowley grinned; a mixture of pride and amusement at Aziraphale having actually recognised a Queen song. As though knowing what Crowley was thinking, the angel added, "I have spent enough time in your car to recognise _Queen_ when it's quoted at me. Oh and yes, thank you," he added to the waiter.

The wine was tasted and approved of and a comfortable silence fell between them as they ate.

~ *XX* ~

Their meals were finished when Aziraphale reached across the table to take Crowley's hand in his. Mesmerised, they both watched the manicured hands gently brush the soft knuckles. Then Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, his face shining with some emotion that the demon didn't completely recognise.

"I realised something the other day," Aziraphale said softly."And while I know you may not understand it, I want you to know."

Crowley involuntarily tensed. But Aziraphale squeezed his hands gently and Crowley forced himself to relax. "Don't worry," the angel said hesitantly. "It's nothing like... I just..." he took a deep breath. Then with forced steadiness he said, "I love you."

The rest of the restaurant seemed to dissolve around them. Crowley had frozen; he'd stopped breathing. And after looking so hopeful Aziraphale looked away, suddenly very afraid. "I do," he muttered. "More than... more than is acceptable for an angel." He turned back to look at Crowley, who flinched and pulled his hands from Aziraphale's grasp. The angel's face fell.

"I..." It came out in a voice Crowley didn't recognise as his own. He wanted to apologise for the look of anguish now residing on Aziraphale's face. He wanted to just say something, anything, but his throat had closed up. He mostly wanted to explain how those three little words had brought the foundations of his existence crumbling to the ground. Crowley was a demon. It wasn't in his nature to love, unlike Aziraphale who had a duty to love everything. "I..."

"It's ok," Aziraphale added, hurriedly. "You don't have to say it back. I, I understand."

Grateful, Crowley could only nod. But a sense of guilt flowed through him. He _should_ have been able to say it back. Because he did. He did feel that way. He was sure he did. He had to. He just... he couldn't say it. It was so new and unfamiliar it hurt. And with a jolt, Crowley realised, that maybe he wasn't worthy of Aziraphale's love.

He vaguely heard Aziraphale apologising and shook his head. Forcing his mouth to work, he said, "No, don't apologise."

"I didn't mean to upset you-" Aziraphale said, his voice cracking.

"I'm not upset." Crowley hadn't meant it to sound so harsh.

"-I just wanted you to know."

"I know."

Aziraphale said nothing. The restaurant formed back around them, barging back into their conscience. The sudden loud conversations, cheerful laughter and the soft chinking of cutlery on plates was such a contrast, but neither Crowley nor Aziraphale seemed to notice. Crowley had lowered his gaze to study his glass of wine as though it were a particularly interesting art piece. Aziraphale examined his hands, which were twisting themselves into knots in his lap.

The silence was strained, almost painfully so and it was only broken when Crowley suggested they leave.

~ *XX* ~

Crowley didn't push a tape in when the Bentley pulled onto the road. The silence seemed to reflect the sombre, awkward mood that had fallen earlier. Aziraphale felt sick. A part of him was wishing he'd never voiced his feelings. He'd never wanted this.

But as they pulled out onto the main road, the quiet was broken. Crowley began to sing. "Driving back in style in my saloon will do quite nicely. Just take my back to yours, that will be fine." He glanced at Aziraphale with a hopeful smile.

There were a few seconds of silence, before Aziraphale added smilingly, "Come on and get it."

Just like that a small piece of the tension lifted. And they both know that everything would be alright.

_To be continued..._


	10. Of Attempts at Babysitting: Part One

**Disclaimer: **Good Omens is property of Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

_The idea for this comes, once again, from the wonderful _**woelfin-akhuna**_. And it will be coming to you in three parts. Hopefully. I should add that, in my mind, Crowley is the sort of person (person-shaped being) who watches movies like _Star Wars. _And he prefers the older ones to the newer ones. :P _

_May you all enjoy this and please leave a review. :)_

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><p><strong>Let Us Cling Together As The Years Go By - Of Attempts at Babysitting: Part One<strong>

"_I'm so sorry to impose, but I couldn't think of anyone else to call_. _And we'd be ever so grateful._"

Aziraphale hesitated, mulling the request over in his mind. Part of him was delighted to be asked and genuinely looking forward to the possibility, but another part worried over what Crowley would say. It would have been a different story if Crowley had been the one to pick up the phone. The answer would have most certainly been no. Absolutely not.

But it had been the angel, the supposedly "good one" of the two, who had picked up the phone. And, in the end, he was morally obliged to say yes. He cleared his throat slightly.

"Of course, madam. I'd be delighted."

"_Oh, thank you. And, please, call me Anathema. I've quite forgiven you for that whole kerfuffle. " _

"Of course, Anathema."

"_Now Newt and I will be gone for two days, so you shouldn't have too much trouble. You can bring your dark _friend _with you, too."_

It was the way she said 'friend' that Aziraphale suspected she knew there was much more than just friendship between him and Crowley. "Uh... certainly," he said.

"_Thank you again." _There was a muffled voice in the background. _"Newt says I should offer to pay you. Do you have..?"_

"Oh no," Aziraphale said, cutting her off kindly. "It's quite alright."

"_I know."_ And she did know. _"Well, we shall see you before ten tomorrow morning?"_

"Yes, of course. We will see you then."

"_Ta." _Anathema hung up and Aziraphale followed suit.

"Who was that?" Crowley asked from his position on the white sofa where he was watching a rerun of _The Golden Girls. _

"Anathema," said Aziraphale. "The witch."

"I remember," Crowley said a little darkly, not taking his eyes off the screen. "What did she want? More importantly how did she get this number?"

"She is a prophetess, so I presume that's how she found the number," Aziraphale mused more to himself than to Crowley. He sat down beside the demon. "She wanted us to babysit her four children, while she and Newt take a short break."

Crowley turned to look wide-eyed at Aziraphale. "You said no, of course."

Aziraphale blushed.

"You didn't."

"I was morally obliged," the angel protested. Crowley groaned and placed his head in his hands.

"Aziraphale, we've talked about this," he said. "You're not really _morally obliged _to do anything. Not anymore."

"So you'll come and help with me?"

"Pardon?" Crowley said, even though he heard quite clearly.

Aziraphale suppressed a smile. "I just thought that, using your aforementioned logic, you wouldn't be morally obliged to be evil, tempting, mean and horrid."

"Oh stop, you're making me blush," said Crowley.

"Sorry, dear. I was just pointing out that since you're not morally obliged to be all demonic, you could spend a few days helping out and being... nice."

Crowley groaned.

"Well?"

"You know, for an angel, you are a very sneaky bastard. Using my own argument against me."

Aziraphale grinned in a way that was not unlike Crowley's smirk and gave a small bow. "I learnt from the best."

"Ah, but much to learn you still have, my young Padawan, before you can truly master the-"

"Padawan?"

"Star Wars was on the other day." Not knowing what Star Wars was, Aziraphale simply nodded in what he hoped was an understanding manner. Crowley didn't seem to notice. "Anyway, what time are we expected tomorrow?"

"I told Anathema we'd be there before ten."

"Right. And four kids was it?"

"Yes," said Aziraphale.

"Wonderful," Crowley moaned. "I can hardly wait."

"Oh, don't worry," Aziraphale said, warming to the idea. "It'll be fun."

"Bucket loads of fun," said Crowley.

It was impossible to miss the sarcasm in his voice. Aziraphale knew Crowley disliked the idea of children and part of him shuddered to even think of the demon babysitting. But, then again, they had managed fine when bringing up Warlock. So perhaps it wouldn't be so bad after all...

_To be continued...in part two_


	11. Of Attempts at Babysitting: Part Two

**Disclaimer: **Good Omens is not mine. But the Newt and Anathema's children are of my own creation. :)

_I am so sorry. I really am. It's been nearly three weeks without an update. Can you ever forgive me? I've just had so much on lately with university and work. I've had hardly any time for sleep, let alone writing! __So here is the long awaited second part of my Babysitting story. I'm still hoping it's not too OOC (something which I'm always afraid of) and not too terribly written. I don't know how many parts it will be, but I'm looking at 4 or 5 at the moment. Hoping that's ok with everyone. :) _

_Lastly, thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed. You guys are fantastic! And I'm sorry again to have kept you waiting. I hope you continue to enjoy this as much as I do writing it. :) Thanks again goes out to the lovely _**woelfin-akhuna. **_You know why. ;)_

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><p><strong><span>Let Us Cling Together As The Years Go By - Of Attempts at Babysitting - Part Two<span>**

It was 9:57 AM in Tadfield.

It was peaceful and quiet. That was until a screech of car tyres broke the calm and Crowley brought the Bentley to a skidding halt outside Jasmine Cottage, narrowly avoiding a neatly kept Rhododendron bush. Aziraphale shot him a glare, which the demon promptly ignored.

The pair left the car and walked up the gravel driveway; Aziraphale with a slight, excited, spring in his step and Crowley somewhat reluctantly. Anathema and Newt met them on the front porch. From a distance it looked as though Anathema was wearing a very unusual, lopsided, fluffy skirt. But on closer examination the skirt turned out to be a small girl, clinging tightly to her mother's leg, a thumb in her small mouth.

"Aziraphale and... Crowley is it?" Anathema said, stepping forward.

"Yes," said Aziraphale, offering a hand to shake. "Uh... how are you both?"

"Fine," Newt said with a smile. "And yourselves?"

"Oh, ah fine thank you," the angel said, nudging Crowley into accepting Newt's offered hand.

"Wonderful."

Crowley and Aziraphale nodded as awkwardness quickly descended. It seemed strange meeting again in such domestic situations after that one incredible Saturday.

"So... uh..." Aziraphale glanced down at the small child. "Who is this little one?" he said with a gentle smile.

Anathema carefully extracted her daughter from her skirts and propped her up on her hip. "This," she said. "Is Agnes. After... well you know. She's three. Say hello to the nice babysitters, sweetie."

Agnes looked momentarily mortified (an expression which Crowley was impressed to see upon the three year olds face), before whimpering and burying her head into her mother's shoulder. A look that was half apologetic, half worried crossed Aziraphale's face, but Anathema just smiled. "Don't worry, she can be a bit shy at first."

"But if you tell her a story, she'll be your friend for life," Newt added, fondly.

"Wonderful, exactly what I wanted to hear," said Crowley and only Aziraphale seemed to notice the sardonic tone. The angel shot him a look which clearly said 'play nice!'

"Anyway, we should be heading off," Anathema said. She twisted around and called out. "CHILDREN!"

There was a stampede of footsteps (Aziraphale stepped back automatically) and two other children joined them. Aziraphale and Crowley were soon introduced to John (aged 4 ½), and Nina (aged 6). Newt also informed them that their youngest child, Michael (aged 18 months) was still asleep and that it was best if he was left that way for a while.

"Now be good," Anathema told her collective children as Newt began loading bags into his car (Crowley noted that it wasn't a very good car, especially compared to his Bentley. He briefly considered asking Aziraphale to give the poor man a new one.)

"Oh, we will," Aziraphale assured them with a smile.

"Sure," Crowley said with a small sarcastic grin. "There'll be lots of running with scissors and playing with matches. And, if we're lucky, talking to strangers." He winked at the children. Anathema laughed as though she'd just been told a very funny joke. Crowley grinned. Aziraphale, however, scowled and shot yet another glare at the demon. He was well aware that Crowley wasn't joking at all.

The next five minutes after that was filled with many hugs and kisses. Crowley and Aziraphale turned politely away.

"You will behave, won't you dear?"

"Of course," Crowley said.

"It's very disconcerting that I can never tell if you are being sarcastic or not," said Aziraphale.

"It's a gift," grinned Crowley.

Despite himself, Aziraphale smiled feebly back. "I know."

"I have many gifts," Crowley leaned in with a leer.

Aziraphale hurriedly stepped backwards. "Oh for goodness... My dear boy, we're _babysitting_!"

"You mean we won't be-"

"No."

Crowley pouted.

Luckily, Anathema chose that moment to extract herself from the tangles of hugs to let them know 'we'll be off now, then'.

"Thank you again for this," she said, smiling graciously at Aziraphale.

"Really it's no problem," Aziraphale smiled back.

The three children waved dutifully as Newt and Anathema got into the car. They continued to wave as the car rolled out the driveway and disappeared around the bend. Then, like some sort of trigger, as soon as the car had disappeared Agnes began to cry. Her shrieks pierced the quiet morning.

Crowley looked at Aziraphale as though this was entirely his fault. "I am _not_ telling her any stories," he said.

"I wasn't even going to suggest it," Aziraphale replied evenly (though he fought very hard not to smile).

_To be continued..._


	12. Of Attempts at Babysitting: Part Three

**Disclaimer: **Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett own the characters in Good Omens. I own the children (in a non-creepy, strictly copywriter sort of way)

_I cannot apologise enough for not updating this sooner. University work has taken over my life and I haven't had much time to write or even read. I can only hope that you, my dear reader, can understand and forgive me for this. :) I don't know when I'll be able to update next and I don't want to make any promises, but I for one do hope it's soon. I do miss writing my favourite angel and demon. :)_

_Anyway, without further ado, here is part three of my babysitting tale. At the moment, I think there will be five parts. Maybe six. I'll see how it goes. But please enjoy and please leave a review. :)_

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><p><strong><strong><span>Let Us Cling Together As The Years Go By - Of Attempts at Babysitting - Part Three<span>****

It had been two hours since Newt and Anathema had gone and left an angel and a demon in charge of their children.

For the most part, Crowley thought they'd been doing a good job. Anathema had made a "List of Important Things To Know" and pinned it to the fridge and everything seemed straightforward. At least so far. The youngest child, Michael had stayed asleep much to their relief. And after a brief incident (where Aziraphale suggested the other three children read some books, much to the children's horror and Crowley's amusement. "Children don't want to read books, angel!"), they had switched on the old television and thankfully found a channel that played cartoons.

It was not long after the cartoons had finished and John and Agnes were playing with a toy car set and dolls respectively, when Aziraphale decided to head upstairs and check on Michael. He had nearly reached the stairs when Crowley's voice echoing from the kitchen made him stop. Eyes narrowing, Aziraphale headed to the kitchen doorway.

"Here you go, Nina darling," Crowley was saying as he handed the six year old a bottle of wine. "This is the finest claret out of France. You should savour it."

"What are you doing?" Aziraphale demanded.

Crowley didn't seem surprised by the angel's sudden appearance and he grinned. "I'm teaching Nina here the delights of French wine."

"She's six!"

"I'm old enough!" Nina protested, taking a healthy swig of the wine. "This tastes good," she added.

"Good girl," praised Crowley.

"Crowley!" Aziraphale walked across the room and took the wine bottle off Nina. The six year old pouted.

"It was just a sip."

"You're setting a bad example."

Crowley gestured to himself. "In case you'd forgotten, I'm a demon."

"I'm hardly likely to forget, am I," Aziraphale said.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

There was an outcry from somewhere at the other end of the house. Michael had woken up. "Now look what you've done," Aziraphale muttered.

"Just a suggestion," Crowley said. "But if we gave him some of this claret, or perhaps some scotch, maybe he'd go back to sleep."

Nina, who was watching the disagreement with amused fascination, giggled. Though, her increased amusement seemed to be brought on by the look of absolute shock on Aziraphale face.

"Crowley! No," Aziraphale said firmly. "And if I see you anywhere near the alcohol I'll-"

"What?" Crowley grinned.

Aziraphale considered threatening the demon with Holy Water, but he knew Crowley would pick it as an empty threat. And quite right too... Instead, the angel came up with another idea. "I'll make sure you're the one who gets to change little Michael's nappies," Aziraphale said, with an innocent smile.

"You wouldn't," Crowley said. "You can't make me."

Aziraphale raised an elegantly shaped eyebrow. "Of course, I can't make you," he said. "But I can withhold certain _things _from you, if you don't."

Crowley's jaw fell open. "You complete and utter-"

"No swearing in front of the children now, dear," Aziraphale said smilingly. And with a wink he left the room. As he headed up the stairs, he heard Crowley's distant voice.

"I'm having such a bad influence on him."

Smiling slightly, Aziraphale reached Michael's room and slowly opened the door. Michael was sat in the middle of his cot, crying his little eyes out. Aziraphale's smile fell slightly and he made a soft noise of sympathy. "Hello, little one."

Michael's only response was to cry a little harder and Aziraphale paused, suddenly unsure how he would handle this. "Do you need to be changed?" he asked, as though he expected a civilised response. With a frown he added, "Oh, Aziraphale you fool, he's not going to reply." He shook his head and made a tentative step toward Michael's cot. The young boy paused for a second to survey the angel and the room fell quite silent.

"It's ok," Aziraphale said with a smile. "It's just me, old... uncle Aziraphale." Michael's lip trembled and he made a choked sort of sob. "No, no, it's ok. Don't cry," Aziraphale said, a panicky tone to his voice. "I... I'm just here to tell you a story."

At the word 'story' Michael's lip stopped trembling and he seemed to sit up a little straighter. "That's right," said the angel, smiling. "A story."

Reaching over the high bars of the cot, Aziraphale hummed and tucked Michael into his covers. With relief (and a slight bit of disappointment) he detected no smell of a soiled nappy. Disappointed because the potential hilarity of watching Crowley change a nappy would quite possibly make his week.

Michael gurgled in nonsensical baby-speak, breaking Aziraphale's amusing thoughts. The angel smiled down at him again and, in soft tones, began to tell a long tale about an angel and a snake and what happened in the beginning.

_To be continued..._


End file.
